Son of the Eye
by PsychoMike5469
Summary: Alternate Universe Wrong Boy Who Lived, Daniel Potter is thought to be the savior of the Wizarding World after Harry Potter is presumed dead. Little did they know that he would become something so much more powerful than they could ever imagine. Not Slash and pairings undecided. Poll for possible third fandom open now. Go Vote! Review!
1. Sic Parvis Magna

**A/N: This is my first ever Lord of the Rings/Harry Potter crossover ever, and I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism to help better me, and to help write a better story for all of you. Anyways on to the story. I would recommend watching the introduction scene to The Fellowship of Ring, to better your experience. **

**I Don't Own Anything.**

_It began with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all creatures. Seven to the goblin lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of men, who above all else desire power. But within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race._

_But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom. The Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a master ring, to control all others, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life. The inscription on the ring read, _

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbutal, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,"_

"_One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them; One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."_

_One by one the free lands of Earth fell to the power of the ring. But there were some who resisted, a last alliance of men, elves, and other creatures marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the slopes of Mount Doom they fought for the freedom of Earth._

_Victory was near-but the power of the ring would not be undone. It was in this moment that all hope had faded, Isildur son of the king, took up his father's sword and severed the One Ring from the dark lord's hand. Sauron the enemies of the free peoples of Earth, was defeated._

-Hundreds of years later-

A small _pop _sounded off of the side of the paved road in Godric's Hollow, and out of the shadows and trees came a figure adorned in black, pale face covered by the sleeve of the dark cloak. Red snakelike eyes peered out of the hood like search lights, darting back and forth at the various homes that adorned the quiet street. Slowly moving forward, wand held limply at his side in his hand, advanced upon the currently invisible Potter household.

The wards that the Order had cast were nothing but a mere nuisance to the Dark Lord Voldemort, and were quickly brushed aside, like one would brush a fly from their arm. Blasting down the front door with a _Bombarda _and practically gliding up the stairs to the nursery. Voldemort's spy within the Order of the Phoenix, Wormtail, had done exceedingly well in spilling all of his secrets to him. A pity that the eldest Potters could not be home at the moment, he would have loved to slaughter them. They were away at a Halloween party, hosted by the black sheep of the Black family, ironically enough, and would not have been home for some time if he had not smashed the wards.

Stepping over the fresh corpse of the family's nanny, a mudblood that deserved what she got, he swept into the nursery. One crib, held both children laying side by side, one with brown hair and deep brown eyes, the other with unruly black hair on its head and eyes as green as the killing curse.

He held his wand aloft in front of him, and as he prepared to deliver the killing curse, a wretched and ear splitting shriek came from the street. _What on Earth was that? _Voldemort thought to himself, as he peered out into the street, a sudden fog had seemed to spring up and standing in the middle of it were nine dark cloaked individuals. Their hoods covered their faces entirely, and as he looked into them, Voldemort had the distinct feeling that all nine of them were staring up at him. He turned his back to the cloaked figures, and cast the unforgiveable.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _he called out, and a burst of bright green light flew forth from his wand at the sole crib, striking both baby's, suddenly and unexpectedly the curse rebounded off of the two and directly back at its caster. Destroying Voldemort's form, and leaving the two babies as they were before, this time though, both young boy's foreheads were adorned with a single scar each. The brown haired boy, Daniel, held a jagged scar that resemble nothing. The black haired boy, Harry, received a lightning bolt shaped scar that would forever mar his skin. Daniel Potter began to cry, quite loudly too.

Nine cloaked figures ascended the stairs, they were Black Riders, Ring Wraiths; Nazgûl. The most loyal of all of the Dark Lord Sauron's servants. Morgul blades drawn and at the ready, they swept into the nursery and in Black Speech began to converse.

"_This is the one, the one our Lord seeks," _The leader of the group said in a commanding tone that was chilling to listen to, using the language of the Black Speech, which was used by those who served the Dark Lord. He was known as the Witch King of Angmar, a being whose name was legend, and had struck fear into the hearts of all creatures. Khamûl, the second in command, spoke next,

"_Are you sure? Our Lord will not tolerate failure," _Khamûl said in a raspy and cold voice. The Witch King rounded on Khamûl . _"Do you take me for a fool?" _Khamûl remained silent before finally saying, _"No." _

"_Then hold your tongue," _The Witch King said, as he turned back towards the crib and sheathed his blade. Reaching his heavy gauntlets into the crib and snatched up the child known as Harry Potter. The Nine descended the stairs and left out of the back door, disappearing into the night.

Almost as soon as the back door swung shut, nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix apparated onto the front lawn of the current Potter residence, wands at the ready. Lily and James Potter sprinted into the house, caring little for their own safety, all that mattered was the lives of their children. At the top of the stairs, Lily covered her mouth at the sight of the limp corpse of Sandra, the nanny that they had hired to look after their two young boys when they would go out.

Clenching back the tears, Lily stepped over poor Sandra's body and dashed into the nursery. She ran right up to the crib, and leaned in to grab her son Daniel. But where was Harry? Then she saw the black cloak, and the familiar Dark Lord's wand and put together what must have happened.

Voldemort must have cast a killing curse, that Daniel had survived but Harry had not, meaning that he was the child that the prophecy had foretold. She sunk to her knees, Daniel cradled in her arms, and like a floodgate had been released, tears began to stream down her face. James came sprinting in, eyes wild with emotion, Lily managed to choke out through her tears, "He's gone…" before breaking into sobs once more. James moved to be with his wife, and wrapped his arm around her in a comforting fashion, "At least we have Daniel, we can be thankful for that," James said.

-Years later-

Dumbledore sat in his office, fingers steepled and leaning back in his chair, Fawkes was perched nearby in his usual position, as Dumbledore contemplated these most recent developments. Ever since the death of Cedric Diggory, and the confirmation of what was seen by Daniel Potter, it was true then. Lord Voldemort has returned.

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the office door, and Snape walking in, "You summoned me Headmaster?"

"Ah yes Severus, do come in, lemon drop?" The old wizard offered to the potions master, who shook his head, "Straight to business I see," Dumbledore said, lowering his hands to lay intertwined on the top of his desk. "I have heard rumors, of a very powerful wizard to the east. Rumor has it that the wizard resides within a fortress from a long forgotten age, and I need you to go and attempt to sway this wizard to our cause." Serverus nodded, and turned on his heel, cloak billowing out behind him in his somewhat trademark fashion. He truly did grow tired of being his messenger boy.

-Somewhere in the East-

Severus Snape was not an easily intimidated man, but the very sight of what lay before him made the fair of the back of his neck stand up on end, he slowly began to cross the single bridge into a place that was once thought nothing more than myth and legend. Dol Goldur. Ancient texts rumored the fortress as a hill of dark sorcery and evil, no one knew how long that it had stood on this hill in the forest, but those same texts allude to it being from the time of Merlin.

Taking even steps across the single bridge leading into the fortress, dark and ominous clouds swirled overhead, laden down with heavy raindrops. At the entryway he paused for a moment and looked to the side of fortress, a yellowed human skulls empty black eyes stared back at him from one of the numerous cages that hung off of the side of the structure.

Snape knew that he was being watched, where from he could not exactly determine. He placed his hand over his wand as he moved through a narrow hallway filled with overgrown roots and vines. Finding himself in a spacious room he drew his wand and began to cast a revealing charm, transparent spherical pulses began to emit from his wand, crawling over every object and structure. Changing to a more complex charm, the words began to roll off his tongue.

Suddenly he was thrown off of his feet and came crashing down into the stone flooring, looking upward he found himself staring at an orc. Orcs were a rather dark magical creature that had not been seen in centuries, and were renowned for their love of battle and destruction of all things. Not to mention that certain appendages, such as fingers, were used to strengthen various potions. This orc had pure white skin, which in itself was rare, and was also missing its left arm below the elbow. A twisted and gnarled bar of iron was substitute for what was missing. In its other hand it wielded a heavy and rather dangerous looking mace, deep scars marred its skin, and behind it dozens of other orcs stood behind it with many other nasty looking weapons. The other orcs leered and jested at him in an unknown and guttural sounding language.

The Pale Orc began to start laughing in a humorless tone, and then spoke in that same harsh language, took the mace in both hand and the gnarled end of the bar, came charging forward to deliver a devastating blow. Snape rolled out of the way and cast several cutting curses into the crowd of hostile creatures, before taking off in a sprint down one of the numerous passageways, delving deeper into the fortress of Dol Goldur. Behind him he could hear the shouting of commands and the barking of what he thought were wolves.

Upon reaching a narrow bridge that connected the main fortress to an outlying tower, he spun and cast a _Bombarda _at the bridge, destroying it and preventing his pursuers from giving chase. He realized the error of his ways, when he practically ran into the blade of a sword, the tip barely a millimeter from his throat. His eyes travelled down the blade to the wielder, whom wore a heavy set of intricately carved armor and a thick black hooded cloak. Only when looking at the young face did he realize, that the wielder of the sword couldn't be much older than one of his sixth year students at Hogwarts. His blood red eyes were undoubtedly unnerving, and Snape could see the fringe of black hair on his head.

Severus calmed himself before speaking, "I come bearing a message," he said in a steady tone. The teenage boy said nothing, but began to pace around him, sword still at his throat. The sword never shook nor faltered, but stayed at precisely the same angle, hinting at the strength this boy possessed.

Finally the teen stopped pacing, and in a low and dangerous voice said, "So did they…" The sword now pointed to several bodies draped in black with silver masks, Death Eaters he realized, "But they failed to choose their words carefully-why have you come, wizard?" the teenage boy questioned. "Those men," Severus gestured to the bodies of the Death Eaters," serve the Dark Lord Voldemort, and wish to enslave to the Wizarding World. An associate of mine, wishes for our organization, the Order of the Phoenix, to ally with you," Snape finished in his monotone voice.

He had noticed that the boy's face remained emotionless, for the entire time he spoke, except for when he said the words Dark Lord. Perhaps, this boy disliked the Dark Lord as much as some members of the Order did.

"I will find you whenever I reach my decision, now go," the boy dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Snape apparated back to the Hogwarts grounds.

The Black Hand of Sauron, had not been surprised that the wizard had come to Dol Goldur to seek his help, it was as his father, Sauron the Great had said it would be. But against what, his father did not know, now he knew. Whatever The Black Hand saw, Sauron saw, for as long as his own ring of power was on his hand, Sauron could see through him.

"_What shall I do, my lord?" he questioned the Lord of Mordor, "We shall wait, until an opportune moment to fully reveal ourselves, and when we do there will be no force on this Earth that can stop me."_

The Black Hand of Sauron had been known by another name long ago, a name that was very well known among the wizarding population of Britain, he was Harry Potter. Now his father was amassing a huge army in Mordor to the east, while here in Dol Goldur he himself would be able to field an army of significant size as well, with Azog as his lieutenant. The Wizarding world will soon fall to their combined strength.

**A/N: There it is folks, the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. As I certainly did writing it. So feel free to Follow, Favorite or Review if you want to. Until Next time. **


	2. Arrival

**A/N: I thank everyone for Following, Favoriting, and Reviewing the first chapter, I totally didn't expect that much support from all of you. I want to thank you for all the support, and I bring the next chapter of Son of the Eye. Enjoy.**

**I own nothing.**

The Witch King of Angmar looked out over the vastness that was the land of Mordor, ash rose from Mount Doom and blocked out the sun, black sulphurous sand covered the ground, small out croppings of rocks dotted here and there. It truly was a desolate place, and Angmar liked it just fine. Legions of orcs, and their stronger brethren the Uruks milled around below, dark men from east and the south, trolls and other dark creatures. Very recently Azog the Defiler has led a successful journey to the Mines of Moria, a long contested battle ground between the goblins and the forces of Mordor, but it was a rout this time, with no goblins surviving to tell the tale. Their greed had caused them to dig to deep and awaken something in the darkness. Sauron truly had called all to him, and now there were few that remained that could challenge him.

Lands were not the same as they had once been and Men had grown more advanced in their absence, developing weapons that caused destruction on catastrophic scales, but the wizards had remained secretive. As much so as they had, concealing their true strength and numbers, while still retaining the element of surprise. The Black Hand had been sent to learn as much as he could on the wizards that had extended an olive branch to him, and then report back to his master.

The boy was a fool, who was told that their master could see everything through his ring of power, and was unfit to lead anything, even if he was considered the Dark Lords spawn. He was just a means to achieve an end; nothing more. Even Angmar had long ago realized that he was nothing more than a piece on the board, so to speak, and was content with his place.

-Line Break-

Daniel Potter was sitting in the Great Hall reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, and spooning cereal into his mouth, when the magical newspaper was suddenly ripped from his hands. Daniel looked up to find the culprit none other than his longtime friend Ronald Weasley, or just Ron as he preferred to be called. He threw an annoyed look Ron's way, who just grinned and said, "Did you hear?"

Daniel cocked a brown haired eyebrow at this, "Hear what?" he questioned his friend. Ron opened his mouth to answer, but was abruptly cut off as a certain bushy haired witch sat down next to him and answered for him, "Dumbledore invited a special guest to Hogwarts, he's supposed to arrive today."

"How'd you hear about this?" Daniel asked, genuinely curious, his eyes fleeted to Ron who just grinned and said, "Fred and George's extendable ears come in quite handy when you really need them." Daniel cracked a wry smile at the thought of the twin pranksters, but faded at the thought of the towers of homework that he had already received, only a week into the school year no less! Just the other night his class had been assigned a ten page essay in Potions by Snape, who looked a little worse for wear, but Daniel couldn't really tell, the greasy git always did look the same.

Daniel looked up from his bowl of aimlessly floating cereal as student after student began to suddenly depart from the Great Hall, his two friends had noticed two, "Wonder where they're all off to?" Ron asked as he selected a piece of toast and began to spread a thick layer of jam onto it.

As if on cue a loud horn sounded throughout the room, the trio looked at each other and then grabbed their things and rushed off into the mass exodus from the Great Hall. People were pushing and shoving as they made their way to the battlements, it reminded Daniel much of the same way that it had happened last year, when the Tri-Wizard tournament candidates arrived in their own dramatic way.

Once they were all shoving to get a view off the battlements, and chatting excitedly about who this mystery individual could be, another loud horn sounded from down the long bridge, which was clouded this morning by a heavy fog.

Out of the mist came several marching figures in armor, three across and several deep, long sharp pikes were held in the lead three's hands and the, what Daniel assumed to be soldiers, middle soldier had a long black banner hanging from the top of his. With what looked to be a large, crudely drawn, red eye in the middle with lines extending outward from this, as if symbolizing something on fire.

-Line Break-

The Black Hand would not lie Hogwarts was a magnificent sight to behold, but it couldn't compare to the first time that he saw the Black Gates or the peaks or Barad-dûr, or the Eye itself. But impressive nonetheless. Twenty Easterlings, or more accurately dark men from Rhûn, had been sent to come along with him. Not that he would need much assistance should trouble arise, but they were more for show than anything. The envoy marched into the large open square with gaggles of school children surrounding them, and a fountain at its center that let forth a seemingly infinite stream of water. Stopping a few feet away from the old wizard and the same darkly dressed wizard from Dol Goldur along with a very strict looking old woman with a pointy hat on her head.

He was immediately reminded of the Istari that had opposed his father the first time. The soldier in front of him marched to the side as to allow for him to step out of the protective cocoon of soldiers. He greeted the old man with a warm smile that never reached his eyes, and gave a small bow, "I am Professor Dumbledore, I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts," the old man greeted.

"A pleasure," The Black Hand said, as he followed Dumbledore's gaze onto his envoy. Straight back and eyes staring ahead the Easterlings were truly an imposing sight, and their training shone through now. "Friends of yours I take it?" Dumbledore questioned, "You could say that," he remarked.

"Perhaps you would like a tour of the castle?" Dumbledore asked the red eyed teenager, who nodded and called out an order, in a language that was unfamiliar to him, to the group of pike and scimitar wielding soldiers. The soldiers seemed familiar to him, yet he couldn't place how he knew of them.

-Line Break-

When the gaze of the strange hooded man swept over Daniel Potter he felt ice creep up his spine, and involuntarily shivered. The man's skin was as pale as snow, and his eyes were like looking into a pool of molten lava. He couldn't have been much older than they were, who was this guy?

He looked over at Ron, who was crammed in next to him, "He looks like trouble," Ron said to him, and Daniel couldn't help but nod in agreement. "What do you think 'Mione?" he questioned the third member of their trio. Who was currently staring at the strange figure, "He is quite handsome isn't he?" Hermione asked the two boys, Daniel had to hide a snicker as Ron began to grow red in anger and jealousy.

Daniel nudged Ron, "Come on, let's go finish breakfast," Ron could only nod, words eluding him. By the time they were finished with breakfast, Daniel practically had to sprint in order to make sure that he wasn't late to his first class of the day, History of Magic.

Although he slept through the majority of class, much like the rest of his fellow students, he suddenly awoke and took a gaze at the board that sat at the front of the room. An image that looked suspiciously like one of the soldiers from earlier this morning was plastered there.

He tuned into Professor Binn's monotone voice as he said," The people of Rhûn, a race largely considered to be inherently dark wizards and witches, this is one of their foot soldiers," he said pointing at the image, "the nation's boundaries do not appear on any muggle map, this is because some nations in the magical world have stood in the same place for large periods of time are now made up of many other muggle nations. Rhûn encompasses almost all of the muggle nation of Mongolia, a small portion of the eastern part of the country of Kazakhstan, and northwest China."

Binns paused and cleared his throat, apparently it didn't matter to him that he was a ghost, "For example the massive magical nation of Harad covers nearly all of the continent of Africa. But back to Rhûn, the Ministry of Magic has deemed the country off limits to all travelers, and exports from the country are examined in detail before being allowed to enter the country."

If the Ministry had placed so many sanctions and laws on Rhûn, then why was this stranger travelling with several of their soldiers? Was he some kind of general or high ranking officer? Daniel needed to talk to Hermione, and fast.

-Later that Day-

"And here we are back at the Great Hall," Dumbledore said as he finished with his tour and looked at his guest, "An impressive institute you have here Headmaster," The Black Hand stated.

"Mr…" Dumbledore trailed off, realizing that in the entirety of the time that he had been giving the tour, he had yet to learn the man's name. "Call me Maugoth," the Black Hand or Harry filled in. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something, perhaps we could go up to my office and discuss it."Maugoth nodded and was about to issue another order, but was interrupted by Dumbledore's voice, "Alone." He issued an order regardless, and the commanding officer of the soldiers ordered the others to move off in the other direction as they began to make their way up to Dumbledore's office.

Once inside familiar surroundings, he took a seat in his chair, "Lemon drop?" he offered Maugoth who politely declined the offer. "Down to business I suppose," Dumbledore remarked to the young man, who gave a forced smile.

"Now, Professor Snape has told me that you are a very accomplished wizard, and I would like to extend an invitation for you to study this year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with a grandfatherly smile. "I will have to think on this overnight," Maugoth told the elderly Headmaster.

**A/N: There it is folks, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be more action packed. Feel free to Follow, Favorite, and Review. Until next time.**


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**A/N: Maugoth/Black Hand= Harry Potter for those who may be confused. A longer note is at the bottom, I encourage you to read it.**

**I own nothing.**

After Maugoth's meeting with the elderly wizard, he was informed by two of the Easterling soldiers that they had set up a small camp by the edge of the lake. He swiftly moved through the halls, the two soldiers less than a step behind him and their hands on the hilts of their scimitars, ready to draw and fight to the death at any moment.

The moon was heavy in the sky and in the cloudless night, the large still waters reflected the stars and the bright white moon, creating a very beautiful night.

On the shores of the lake sat a small group of tents nestled together, the largest one near the encampments center, rows of sharpened sticks protruded from the freshly turned dirt and torches were lit around the perimeter. At the entrance to the camp two soldiers stood stiffly at attention as the Black Hand passed by, only to be relieved by the two soldiers that had been accompanying him.

In the center of the camp the rest of his personal envoy were seated around a roaring campfire, cooking some form of meat, what it was didn't matter to Maugoth. He unsheathed a dagger and cut off a slice of meat with it, hungrily gobbling it down. The soldier in charge, Major Khan, was telling the rest of the men about the ways that he would dismember and kill the children up in the castle up above, in a very detailed manner.

Maugoth almost choked on the piece of meat when he heard Khan describe a particularly gruesome scenario, the rest of the men let out loud guffaws of laughter and even Maugoth gave the smallest hint of a grin. Standing up he gave Khan a small nod, which was curtly returned, and departed for the largest tent.

Inside the tent it was rather Spartan in fashion, with a cot and several blankets, an armor rack and a large chest at the foot of that. He unclipped his black cloak and tossed that onto the cot, next he took off his armor and attached the multiple pieces to the stand, finally leaving him in a pair of slacks. Made of a lightweight yet rather durable material from Harad. His muscled chest and its numerous scars could tell a story of its own, the smallest an inch long that lay under his collarbone. To the largest, a jagged ugly thing that ran from his right pectoral to the center of his abs, a reminder of what happened when one disobeyed orders.

He slumped onto the cot and ran his hands through his short black hair, before he laid back and drifted off into unconsciousness. But it didn't stay that way for long. His pleasant dream of slaughtering innocents whilst riding on the back of a Warg, was interrupted by a massive flaming eye, dominating his vision.

He fell to his knees and lowered his head. A deep voice rang out in Black Speech, "_You will enter the Department of Mysteries, and retrieve what is mine_."

"What is it that I am looking for my Lord?" he asked curiously.

"_You will know it when you see it. Do not fail me_." Sauron said simply, the flaming eye disappeared and Maugoth jolted awake. He blinked several times, as bright golden light began to stream in through the partially closed flaps of the tent. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the cot, he rolled his shoulders and then stood to his full height.

Pulling apart the flaps of the tent he stepped out into the brisk morning air, nipping at his shirtless chest as he set off into a jog. The soldiers stood at attention as he passed by them, and continued toward the castle. Whenever could, and for as long as he could remember Maugoth had been set on a strict morning exercise ritual that he rarely if ever deviated from. He started with a 10 kilometer run, then followed by several sets of pushups and sit ups, and to finish he would usually spar for a few hours.

This had all started back when he was trained by Azog, the orc had made him run until he felt that he was finished, which usually lasted until he collapsed in exhaustion. Even then he was not safe from the orc's berating, "_Get up, weakling!" _usually followed with a savage blow to the ribs. He'd vowed to himself that he would never be weak again. From the moment that he'd been able to lift a sword, he was taught how to use to the fullest extent of its potential and his.

As he passed by what he estimated was the halfway mark, near the groundskeeper's hovel, he sped up into a dead sprint, which he continued as he ran into the Forbidden Forest. Mantling over rocks, and fallen trees covered in moss, he bobbed and weaved through the trees like a wraith. Eventually Maugoth emerged again on the shore of the lake, his small camp in the distance, slowing down to a jog, he followed the shoreline back.

-Line Break-

"You wished to see me," Lucius Malfoy said, kneeled before his master; Lord Voldemort. The Dark Wizard's eyes were close, as if in deep thought, his pale bony fingers to his temples, and the slits that passed for his nose was up in the air. Finally his crimson red eyes opened and he gazed down upon one of his most faithful servants.

Meanwhile, Lucius was growing extremely uncomfortable under the much more powerful wizard's gaze, in all his years of serving the Dark Lord he had never quite felt the comfort of being in his presence like some, Bellatrix Lestrange for example.

"I have sensed it Lucius…" Voldemort trailed off.

Malfoy was concerned, "What have you seen, my lord?"

Voldemort beckoned him to rise, "A darkness is rising, one that threatens my very reign in Britain, it's eye gazes upon the island with such intensity; analyzing. The ones you sent to the fortress, have they returned yet?"

Lucius shook his head.

Voldemort bore a frown upon his face, "You will gather an army, it will be needed."

Lucius nodded, "Yes my lord,"

With a dismissive gesture, Lucius bowed and hurried out to complete his master's task. Voldemort was worried, he would never admit it aloud, but he feared that the being, whose identity had yet to be discovered, was slowly begging strengthen its grip on Britain. His allies to the south, The Hessian who was a powerful German dark lord, was no longer contacting Voldemort with updates on the status of his land. A storm was coming, and he did not know if he was prepared.

-Line Break-

"_Quiet_," The orc leader called out to the large group of orcs gathered behind him. They were all the same except for one, their leader whose skin was deathly pale. A rare feature among orcs. His hand carried his favored weapon, a heavy mace, as his force encircled the small wizarding fort.

His master had informed him that a German dark lord resided here, and that he would need to be dealt with before they could move farther north, and Azog the Defiler aimed to serve his master. Among his forces was his own kin Bolg, whom was quite skilled himself, and would be leading a group of around thirty orcs and a troll around the fort's left flank. While he and his much larger force of over a hundred would keep their attention, they would infiltrate and cause havoc among the wizard's forces, a young orc whom had proven himself against much older orcs came to stand behind him.

"_Sir, the troops wait for your order_," the orc known as Gothmog reported.

Azog nodded, "_We move now," _he stood and raised his mace forward into the air.

"_Kill them all!" _He yelled out in Black Speech, his orc forces released savage and primal war cries as they ran forward as fast as their legs were carrying them.

Archers moved up as the foot soldiers rushed in, arrows notched in their bow strings, an alarm ward sounded when the Orcs got to a certain point, not that the wizards on the parapets hadn't already noticed them.

The German wizards on the walls let loose an array of spells, downing many, yet that did not deter the attackers. Some managed to scale the wooden walls and leapt over the sharp wooden fence posts that had been driven into the earth. Bloodlust engulfed them, allowing the Orcs to take several curses before falling; pain irrelevant. Realizing that their enemies were not normal men they switched to using the killing curse along.

The wizard's felt that they were winning, until one of them found herself in the jaws of a massive wolf like creature, she screamed in pain as the Warg shook her like a chew toy. As the life drained from her, the Warg threw the body away, the Warg rider urging it to attack others.

Then when things began to look even bleaker, a massive armored troll with a serrated scimitar in its hand barreled through their wall down several wizards with its charge, and began to go on a rampage through others.

Azog himself strolled through the fort casually, occasionally caving a human's head in with his mace, his white Warg had its fill of meat to say the least as it moved through the fort to the largest tent. Sliding off the side of his mount he entered the tent, eyes scanning for the wizard who knelt at the feet of a statue with a winged helmet. He proceeded to rise, with him came a large battle axe and spoke in slightly accented English, "My forefathers once wielded this weapon with pride, and I shall continue its legacy of death. Thor smiles upon me!"

With that the German wizard of Nordic descent came at Azog with a wild overhead strike, slamming into the animal rugs that adorned the bottom of the tent. The Hessian was surprised that his enemy had moved with such speed, and threw his arm at the Orc. Which connected and caused the Pale Orc to let out an annoyed growl, the Orc picked him up with his one good arm. Mace forgotten, and strangled him. Gasping for breath the wizard kicked Azog in the stomach, and sent him stumbling back.

They both proceeded to grab their weapons, and swung at each other, weapons connecting with a thunderous _CLANG! _Which echoed throughout the night. They dueled for some time, the Orc gaining the upper hand drove the human through the other side of his tent and into a semicircle. Formed of his soldier's dead bodies, and standing atop and behind them were the Orc's forces watching as their leader dueled the other. Then he saw his son in the hands of an Orc with a heavy body modifications, steel plates that guarded the abdomen from harm, and others. When the Orc ran the blade through his only child's stomach; all hope left him.

Wearily he through another strike at the Pale Orc who dodged it and disarmed the bearded man, who stood with his hands in surrender. Azog snorted at the man's attempt at peace, and thusly slammed his mace into his chest sending him slamming into the muddy ground.

His breathing heavy from the probably fractured ribs and punctured lungs, the man stared into the dark sky in defeat, accepting his fate. Azog the Defiler threw down his mace and hefted his opponent's weapon in one hand. Lifting it into the sky, he brought it down on the man's head, splitting it open like a melon. With one heft he tore the man's head from his shoulders and lifted the axe with the head attached to it into the air, shouting out in victory.

The other Orcs cried out in exhilaration at the show their leader had put on.

**A/N: So I had originally planned to upload this ten days after the last chapter, but life got in the way and when I went to upload it over the winter holiday's, my internet went down due to a snow storm. Anyway, from now on the updates to this story will be larger and farther between. **

**With this chapter I wanted to focus on what was occurring in other parts of the world, and next time Maugoth the Black Hand of Sauron will have a run in with his former parents and Ron starts a beef.**

**I thank you all for your patience and your continued support of this story and will see you next time!**


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